


17

by st_elsewhere



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, M/M, attempt at serious fic lmaooo, fragments of loneliness you gotta squint, lonely characters, no plot they just exist like this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:12:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8280542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_elsewhere/pseuds/st_elsewhere
Summary: when jordan was seventeen, he was already on his third girlfriend. she was older, too, more experienced, and treated jordan like a kid.when he was seventeen, he never fell in love.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldandrust](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldandrust/gifts).



>   
> ah, the weather. so terrible. have this melancholic one, my friends. for @goldandrust always.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

jordan gets to keep the house. she didn’t want anything because she already had everything even before they got married. they haven’t had a child yet, and jordan is living life like a bachelor again, however late it is, no spousal maintenance whatsoever.

he’s thirty eight years old.

it’s weird waking up alone for the first few weeks. the house he inherited from his grandparents is not much but it’s always tidy, and suddenly there’s no one in the kitchen making breakfast for him; no one is hanging their laundry on the backyard where the flowers wilt because usually, before, that’s her doing before she goes, went, to work. she took everything, leaving nothing for jordan to have unnecessary melancholy at any given time.

still. today jordan wakes up in tears.

 

* * *

  

“hello mr. henderson.”

jordan looks up from where he’s kneeling to tighten his running shoes, facing the youngest son of the lallanas. for the past six years jordan has watched adam turn from a sweet, cute kid to a quite handsome but painfully shy young man. his parents are rarely around for work, and his older brother is in uni. adam had his seventeenth birthday last week.

“hey.” jordan stands up, easily towering over his neighbor. “thank you for the cake. i ate it all that night.” adam scrunches his nose when he smiles. it’s adorable. “now that i think about it, i haven’t got you anything. do you have something in mind?”

jordan’s grandparents were close to the lallanas. they used to babysit adam and his older brother, but now they’re all the way down in the south, enjoying their beach house. jordan himself used to think that the lallana brothers were having a huge crush on his wife. ex. her.

adam is dressed like he’s going to meet his friends; it’s a friday evening after all. he shakes his head and crosses his arms, rocking on the heels of his brand new adidas. “it’s okay, mr. henderson. thankfully i’m good.”

jordan smiles. adam always calls him ‘mr. henderson’.

“i think it’s time for you to call me jordan.”

“oh?”

jordan notices the sudden blush decorating adam’s way too open expression, then he thinks back to last christmas when she was still here and adam was wearing a burgundy colored jumper, staring from across the room, clutching his glass of red wine. he had thought adam only had his eyes on her, at that time. right now, he knows he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

when jordan was seventeen, he was already on his third girlfriend. she was older, too, more experienced, and treated jordan like a kid.

when he was seventeen, he never fell in love.

he wonders, what is it about him that appeals to a good young man like adam? is it his misery? the tragic love story that ended badly? is it a mere superficial phase because of jordan’s blue eyes and hairy arms? or is it deeper; a selfish projection of adam’s very own loneliness, his craving for a father figure who’s always absent? jordan can wonder forever, but he can do nothing about it. he won’t let himself.

on his thirty ninth birthday, adam bakes him a chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and lots of macadamia nuts and jordan is only human.

 

* * *

  

summer break means adam working on the vintage bakery just ten minutes walking from their housing complex, and today the rain is merciless. jordan honks his SUV and grins when adam and the people on the bus shelter jump. the hood of adam’s red jumper is up and the pipes of his skinny jeans are wet; so are his not so new adidas. poor boy.

“come in! i’m heading home too!” jordan rolls down his window a little to shout. he unlocks the doors.

“mr. hend—jordan! hi!” adam blinks, beaming, nodding, and running to the passenger seat. he apologizes as he’s dripping on the leather.

“it’s fine. ready?” jordan waits until adam fastens his seatbelt before he drives away. in five minutes they will arrive. “how’s work today?” it’s wednesday.

“not too slow,” adam sighs, wiping his face with the sleeve of his red jumper. he looks good in such bright color. his ashy brown hair is dry and product-free. “i prefer it like that. um, how’s yours?”

“good, i managed to finish everything before the deadline.”

“what do you do again? i forgot.”

they take a right turn to their housing complex.

“senior graphic designer.” jordan drives through their houses’ shared gate, it’s never closed during the day. “i can do some simple illustration too.” he stops right in front of adam’s front door.

“that’s really cool,” adam says, clicking off his seatbelt. “so can you, like, design a cupcake packaging? or a poster?”

jordan hums. “i can get it done. for you?”

adam scrunches his nose, but his strange colored eyes lit up. he smells like baked goods thisclose. “i’ve been experimenting. judy said i can sell my own product in her bakery. um,” he shrugs, “i was thinking pastel colors for the ladies, and earthy colors for the lads who don’t really like sweet treats.”

jordan is listening. when he was seventeen he lived off of his parents’ pocket money. “you should think of one witty name as your cupcake’s brand. one that will make people curious and eventually will come back for more.”

adam blushes easily, apparently. “oh. well.” he bites his bottom lip. “i like ‘bonbon’.”

“bonbon is good. it’s cute.” and jordan continues, “it suits you.”

“yeah?”

“yeah. ‘bonbon cupcake’. i like the sound of it. what do you want to put in the design?”

“oh.” adam covers his mouth with one delicate hand. his nails are clean, the knuckles are smooth. “we’re really doing this?”

“we’re doing whatever you want, adam.”

and then it happens _just like that_ ; as easy as jordan articulating adam’s name out loud. adam is melting, gushing, eyelashes fluttering. jordan touches adam’s cold cheek and kisses him.

 

* * *

  

adam’s business is doing good. he only makes cupcakes on wednesday, thursday, and friday, the days he works for judy in her bakery. he goes to jordan’s house on monday, bringing simple lemon sponge cake with thin vanilla layers and warming jordan’s bed because his parents are away to dublin and wales respectively.

“have you done this before?”

“yes.”

jordan hums. good. or bad? _who was it?_ a friend of his older brother’s. _ah. what did you do, then?_

“stuffs.” adam blushes, chest heaving, reddening.

“like this?”

“more than this.”

 _alright_ , and jordan proceeds to kiss him silly until he comes.

adam is willing. he’s pliant, and he cries the first time, like he can’t believe he gets to have what he wants. he’s a good boy, in love, and only seventeen. the next time, and the next, he doesn’t cry anymore. jordan does, in the morning when he finds the other side of the bed is empty.

 

* * *

 

jordan dates several women after the divorce, in between letting adam to get comfortable on his lap every mondays. his best mate always has an endless list of potential date for jordan every week. jordan enjoys the casual dining, but he only sleeps with two of them who happen to have pixie haircut in ashy brown color.

adam is not clingy. he doesn’t bombard jordan’s phone with mindless texts. he sends photos, instead, of his new cupcake flavor and of a stray cat which eyes remind _me of yours, jordan, hv a gr8 day.,_

they know their boundaries. jordan is not delusional, either; adam is young. he will get bored and find another miserable man to love. jordan was married for seven years, it wasn’t him who got bored and cheated.

“adam?”

“yes?”

“do you pity me?”

adam sits up straighter on jordan’s lap, shifting so now they’re face to face, his short legs are sideway on jordan’s grey sofa. he looks shocked, and sad, too easy to read. “never,” he breathes, pink lips already quivering, “never. i would never—mr. hender— _jordan_ , don’t do this.”

“alright. i’m sorry.” jordan squeezes adam’s cheeks, apologizing for his curiosity. “i was just wondering.”

“don’t.” adam shakes his head, holding onto jordan’s wrist bones tight. “you’re fine. i—”

“nah,” jordan kisses adam’s left palm. “shush. stop. don’t say anything. i’m sorry.”

 

* * *

  

on christmas eve, all of the lallanas are present in the church. adam looks happy, never leaving his mom’s side. this year, they have the party in old mrs. christie’s house.

the men engage him in premier league small talk and the brexit effect so far. the women feed him constantly, complimenting his good looks and burberry jumper. adam doesn’t even look at him.

 

* * *

  

jordan spends the new year with his parents, helping his dad revamping the garage and his mom with her garden. the first night he sleeps in his childhood room, he cries a little after reading adam’s text, late by four hours, asking him about his day, and adam picks up his phone after the sixth ring because it’s well past midnight.

“mr. henderson?”

“it’s jordan.”

“h-hi.”

“i just read your text. i had a splendid day. tired, but i got to be with my parents. how was yours?”

there’s a rustle from the other line, and when adam answers, his voice is clearer, fully awake. “i made fifty cupcakes for delilah’s third birthday. mom and dad helped. um. delilah said she’s going to marry me.”

jordan chuckles, his heart is unblocking, it feels lighter now that he hears adam’s voice. “you’re her bonbon prince.”

the giggling is surprisingly loud. “i am.”

“adam,” jordan plays it dirty, “do you know that i miss you?”

adam makes a sound similar to a squeal. “i don’t. but me too.”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“i’m sorry i called so late.”

“it’s okay. i’m glad.”

“see you soon.”

“bye, jordan.”

 

* * *

  

when jordan was no longer seventeen, he spent his eighteenth birthday trashed with his mates, smoked dope, ran naked around his house, filmed, and is forever stored on the internet.

jordan, using his vast connections, gives adam an opportunity to pass the tenth season of the great british bake off as one of the main contestants, all done on adam’s eighteenth birthday.

in the end, adam doesn’t win it. he gets the fourth place, and when he’s back home, he goes to jordan’s arms first.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
